


Never Done This Before

by EmpressMermalaid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressMermalaid/pseuds/EmpressMermalaid
Summary: Hanzo's eyes were blown out black, and the bite in his voice was more than just sexual frustration. The way he sat astride the cowboy's hips made McCree feel like a wild stallion about to be broken in. The thought was like gun powder in his veins, and Hanzo's hands on his chest was the spark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! Please enjoy this gratuitous McHanzo smut and have a wonderful day!

Neither of them had ever done this before.

A kiss with a _lady_ was supposed to be gentle, soft and kind, but this was no lady and the stubble against his own bearded chin offered no semblance of kindness. It was all teeth and tongue and torture.

Hanzo and McCree fell through the door to their barracks, a tangle of roaming hands and heady panting. Clothing was shed along the way, like some kind of tell-tale gingerbread trail leading to their mutually assured sin. They had been making eyes at one another for what seemed like an eternity. _Oh_ how they had been making eyes at one another. This felt like the slowest burn either of them had ever experienced, the pressure building and mounting until someone finally snapped. Neither of them wanted to be the first to break. They'd never done this before. They both knew there'd be no going back from this.

They were both grateful that they had crossed the debriefing room post-mission in quick strides to meet one another in the middle. They were both grateful their lips had crushed together at the same time. They were both grateful it tasted as good as they thought it would. If they made the first move at the same time, then that meant nobody had broken “first”, right?

McCree was fumbling with the clasp of his cowl when Hanzo shoved him back, sending him stumbling to the cold metal ground with a clatter. Hanzo was on him in a flash, straddling his hips and stealing a kiss as his fingers deftly set about removing the cowboy's chest piece with alarming skill and accuracy. McCree didn't remember ever showing Hanzo how his armour was removed. The archer must have been watching him more closely than he thought.

The feel of Hanzo's hands on his bare skin made McCree hiss. His fingers were long and eloquent in their softness, running over the plains of muscle and short, dark hairs that sloped along his torso. Hanzo had lain with women before, all of them small with delicate curves and pretty features, so this was nearly alien to him. McCree was all hard edges and thick rolls of muscle draped with coarse skin, pockmarked by battle scars and stubble. He took a moment to really drink it all in – the sight of the cowboy all flushed, eyes slitted and laid out on the floor like a bounty ready for the taking – and felt that nothing in his life that he had seen before was as erotic as this.

Heat stirred in his gut as he felt something thick and hard twitch against the inner muscle of his thigh. McCree licked his lips.

Hanzo pushed him back to the ground without grace, carving crescent moons into McCree's chest with his immaculate nails as he leant forward to trap the other man's lip between his teeth. He dragged it backwards, rolling his tongue along where McCree's lower lip was starting to swell with the force of their passions. McCree cursed softly under his breath, a gravelly husk like smoke and Southern heat, flirting with Hanzo's ears and teasing a reaction from between his legs with nothing more than the sound of his voice. Adrenaline pounded in Hanzo's ears, white hot and making his blood boil with some kind of primal urge to dominate.

McCree didn't just look different to the women he had bedded, he _felt_ different too. He was strong and aggressive in the way his hands clamped around the archer's thighs and bucked up in pursuit of some kind of friction. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't breakable. This opened a whole new world of doors to Hanzo. He didn't have to hold back.

“Well alright, then,” the corners of McCree's lips curled in a wry grin as Hanzo stripped him of his pants with a few quick, powerful tugs. He was _so_ ready for whatever was about to go down right now. So, _so_ ready.

Hanzo didn't need McCree to tell him he approved. He could feel the other man's cock throb beneath him and that told him all he needed to know. He leapt to his feet and began to strip himself of his own pants until they were both naked. Hanzo could feel the other man's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and he offered him a coy glance over his shoulder as he kicked aside his clothing. McCree thought Hanzo was a work of art. His muscles sculpted from what looked like pure marble, the way his tattoo shifted and twisted with his body until it looked alive, the sleek curve of his surprisingly delicate legs... pure perfection.

“Yer real pretty, you know,” McCree smiled fondly, the corners of his eyes crinkling kindly as he folded his arms behind his head to continue enjoying the view. He had no shame about the heavy erection lying throbbing against his stomach. When you showered with your crew so often it was hard to feel embarrassment about your mutual nudity, even if the circumstances were very, _very_ different.

Hanzo seemed completely unshakeable as he slipped back down McCree's body until he was straddling him once more. He was so refined, so composed, McCree thought that just made him all the more beautiful. The cowboy's eyes trailed down the breathtaking form above him until he settled on the salacious dip of the other man's hip bones, as sharp and scalloped as the rest of his body. Hanzo's cock looked real good from this angle too, McCree found himself admiring. Long and hard and curved up towards the archer's belly, it was a damn pretty sight alongside his own flushed and needy length.

“Do not flatter me as though I have the ego of a _woman_ ,” Hanzo's eyes were blown out black, and the bite in his voice was more than just sexual frustration. The way he sat astride the cowboy's hips made McCree feel like a wild stallion about to be broken in. The thought was like gun powder in his veins, and Hanzo's hands on his chest was the spark.

“... just said y' were pretty is all,” McCree smirked, a little more pleased than he should be that his words seemed to get under Hanzo's skin so easily.

“Enough talk,” Hanzo demanded his silence by wrapping his fingers tightly around McCree's cock.

McCree fell silent immediately. His sharp inhale made his chest rise and fall hypnotically, the movement rolling all the way down his torso to where Hanzo's fingers were tracing idle patterns along his waist. McCree watched, frozen in the moment, as Hanzo brought his fingers to his own mouth, curling his tongue around them until saliva dripped past his knuckles. McCree caught a glimpse of his pink tongue and sharp white teeth from behind the archer's bruised, plump lips and tensed.

“F-fuu...” McCree growled , a hoarse whine escaping his throat as Hanzo very slowly and deliberately brought his saliva-slick hand between them to grasp both their cocks in one hand.

Hanzo brought his gaze up to meet McCree's from under a fan of black lashes, drawing his lower lip between his teeth and worrying the flesh until it was as flushed as pink as the head of his dick.

“Don't think I never noticed,” Hanzo purred, the foreign lilt in his voice melting the words right off his tongue, “the way you stare... do you look at others with such intensity?”

“Only you, beautiful,” McCree's nails dug into the taut tan of the archer's thighs as Hanzo tightened his grip.

Hanzo stroked them both in time, long languid measures of his wrist setting a steady pace that was all together too slow and too controlled for how wild McCree felt. He bucked, hips snapped up in a bid to earn more friction against his dick in Hanzo's palm and was surprised to find how little the archer budged, strong, powerful thighs keeping him easily and immovably astride McCree's hips. Keeping McCree himself trapped to the floor. He growled, loving every minute of this as Hanzo smirked.

“ _Patience_ ,” Hanzo chided softly, a lovely husk to his tone that made McCree dig his fingers into the other's thighs desperately.

“'m bein' patient, darlin',” McCree replied, cotton dry mouth making the words trip on their way out, “get on with it.”

McCree hissed as Hanzo squeezed his hard length against his own, keeping McCree immobile against the floor with his solid weight. McCree could feel every inch of Hanzo's own cock grind against his, skin slipping against skin with wet trails of saliva making their cocks glisten as precum began to mix into the fray. McCree's panting hitched and fluttered with the way Hanzo moved his hands, a curious little thing that Hanzo was enjoying experimenting with. He squeezed, McCree's breath caught in his throat, he rubbed his palm over the thick head of McCree's cock and the other man's breathing trembled shakily. When Hanzo stroked slow, McCree whined, when Hanzo stroked fast, McCree moaned louder than before. He was playing the cowboy like a song and he intended to only make the other man lose himself more.

When McCree came, it was no surprise. His chest rose and fell rapidly, tongue darting out to lick his own lips with some kind of hesitation. His fingers dug into Hanzo – his arm, his leg – and he shivered from head to toe as Hanzo ran a hand up and down their combined girth. The more McCree trembled under his touch, the more Hanzo focussed on it until he had dropped his own erection completely, letting it rest against the thick hair of McCree's lower belly. Hanzo rolled his hips, half for show, half for a subconscious ache for friction as he brought McCree to the edge, the cowboy spilling himself into Hanzo's deft fingers with a shaky groan. McCree uttered a breathless prayer to noone in particular, bucking once into Hanzo's fist which was closed around his heavy dick and sinking back against the cold floor, a light sheen of sweat on his brow and jelly where his bones ought to have been.

Hanzo regarded the mess on his hands cooly before wiping it on McCree's discarded jeans. McCree wheezed a laugh at Hanzo's slight on his person by using his clothes as a clean up rag. He wasn't even mad. He also noticed that Hanzo was still hard, precum and saliva drying stickily against his skin as Hanzo climbed quickly to his feet.

“You-?” McCree sat up against his elbows, struggling to follow Hanzo's swiftness.

Hanzo sniffed.

“Not necessary,” he replied, reaching for his clothes.

“Not necessary?” McCree echoed with tones of disbelief, bordering on a little laugh.

Hanzo had begun to right his clothes and had his arms in the sleeves of his loose fitting top, the front hanging open either side of his firm, sweat misted chest.

“That ain't gonna do, darlin',” McCree purred, a dark thrill curling down Hanzo's spine at the dangerous hoarseness in his voice.

Hanzo saw McCree move for him a split second after he did, completely aware of what was about to happen yet all the less willing to stop it. McCree's hands closed around his wrists, shouldering him backwards with his wider, taller body and the prone position he had been forced into with his hands above his head. His back hit the wall and the smallest of appreciative noises escaped him. It didn't escape McCree, whose lips curled into the deadly grin of a man holding the upper hand and about to play the winning cards.

Hanzo's kyudo-gi slipped from his shoulders, caught at the elbows as McCree released his hands in order to paw at his body instead, large, calloused fingers closing in around his angular hips, pulling him up so McCree could kiss him deeply. It was as feverish and hot as before, but now their lips met with a slight quiver of satisfaction, the pleasure seeping out of McCree's bonelessness and desire and into the room itself. The air was warm and smelled of sex and Hanzo's lip between McCree's teeth made him weak. He was always on top. Always in control. He was just being kissed, but McCree was making it very plain to see that Hanzo no longer had all the power.

“So beautiful,” McCree murmured against his mouth, moving to kiss Hanzo's cheek, and his jaw, and his neck, staying there a moment longer to nuzzle his bearded face against the other's tanned, musky shoulder.

Hanzo wanted to make some scathing remark, knowing full well that McCree was talking like this to stir him up, yet he found himself clinging to McCree's shoulders instead and... and... sighing? McCree opened his mouth, his hot, wet breath trailing up Hanzo's neck to his ear making him shiver with anticipation. He started to mouth at the lobe, drawing it between his teeth and licking the sweat from his nape with a rough tongue that was both sensually erotic and arousingly possessive.

“Say my name for me, darlin',” McCree's voice was a throaty, delightful roll in the depth of his chest.

It wasn't a request.

“Hah..." Hanzo exhaled, "why?"

"Just wanna hear your pretty voice moanin' my name."

"Hmm..." a smirk curled its way onto Hanzo's lips before he could stop himself, "make me."

McCree wound a hand up the back of Hanzo's neck, tender and sweet, before closing his fingers around the locks at the base of Hanzo's skull, tugging on the fistful of satin black hair he held as Hanzo hissed.

“Say. My. Name.”

“You-”

Stars burst behind Hanzo's eyes as a calloused human hand gripped him by the throat and slammed him against the cold wall, hard enough to cause a prickle of pain to dance an electric arc across his shoulders. Thick fingers clenched slowly, purposefully, easing the wisps of air from his throat and holding tight.

All Hanzo could smell was the rich honey of cigars and the dusty talc scent of thick woollen clothes as the other man pressed forward, sinking his teeth into the shapely pout of Hanzo's lower lip. Hanzo shuddered.

“Still waitin'.”

Hanzo vocalised a sound that was more pathetic whine than he cared to admit. His head was starting to spin. His vision was feathered at the edges with a growing vignette of white noise while McCree kissed the corner of his lips, his jaw, his ear. A sharp pull of his bunched ponytail again and Hanzo bucked against the brunet, involuntary and desperate, as the other man slid his cold, metal hand from his hair. McCree inhaled deeply, tasting the sweet notes of plum and aloe that followed the locks of midnight silk as they slipped away from his fingertips.

Fingers still coiled at the archer's throat, he took his free hand and traced the sharp angles of his jaw. Tender. Intimate. _Possessive_. Hanzo melted.

“Jesse,” he breathed.

McCree snarled in response, cupping Hanzo's chin in his free hand and tilting his head upwards. Hanzo's mouth was suddenly devoured in kisses, wet, messy and suffocating. The hand around his throat held him fast, captive to the cowboy's whim who exploited that advantage by enslaving his lips with his own.

Then McCree dropped to his knees.

“What-” Hanzo began to say but was cut off by McCree's mouth laying a trail of kisses over his thigh.

“I think you know what,” McCree smiled wickedly from the floor before parting his lips and taking Hanzo between them.

Hanzo was stoic to a fault but McCree delighted in the fact that the archer's entire body tensed as though on the precipice of battle. So he wasn't immune to everything. McCree hadn't really done this before, but the theory behind it made sense. He'd received plenty of blowjobs in his time – he just did what he liked to feel done to him. It was a lot harder than he thought, having Hanzo pressed against the back of his throat made him gag so he was limited to sucking on the tip, tongue darting over the shaft and curling to its shape, trying to elicit more than just a reserved shudder from Hanzo. He was dutifully rewarded when he wrapped a hand around the base, trying to make up for what his mouth couldn't do with his fingers stroking the rest of Hanzo's erection the way Hanzo had just finished him not a few minutes before. Hanzo moaned, a soft growling sound in the back of his throat as he tipped his head back, hair spilling over his shoulders as his hair ribbon fell away thanks to McCree's earlier rough treatment and it made for one hell of a pretty picture. McCree was torn between giving all of his attention to the task at hand, and gazing up at the vision before him. He alternated as best he could, getting his fill of seeing Hanzo this vulnerable, and working his hardest to make him even more so.

Hanzo ran a hand over McCree's hair, absently holding him closer as his own pleasure built to a high.

“McCree...” Hanzo breathed, a little urgent tremor to his tone.

McCree pulled off, hand still working its way up and down his shaft with a clumsy kind of earnest.

“... going to...”

McCree pressed his lips against the head of Hanzo's dick, which was flushed and strained in his hand. Swallowing a mouthful of cum hadn't been on McCree's schedule when he'd woken up that morning but he was more than happy to change that. Hanzo had gone a lovely shade of red when he realised that McCree intended to take his load so directly, whether from arousal, embarrassment or both McCree couldn't tell. It only took a few more strokes and Hanzo had tensed, a ripple running beneath his skin as he reached a beautiful climax – far more controlled and flawless than McCree's own messy, sweaty orgasm.

A moment later, still catching their breath, they dressed in silence. McCree cleared his throat several times in the hopes that Hanzo would speak up, although the other seemed perfectly content with the quiet.

“So... uhm...” McCree tried to start as he zipped his jeans, ignoring the smear of his own cum against the leg but Hanzo turned away.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo's lips were pressed into a thin line and he avoided McCree's eye contact. They were both fully dressed, the room stunk of their misdeeds and McCree still had the salty taste of Hanzo's climax on his tongue. The archer turned to leave and McCree's heart dropped.

“I finish training tomorrow at 7,” Hanzo said quietly, pausing in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder through a curtain of dark hair, “care for a drink after?”

McCree smiled.

“Would I.”

He got up and followed the archer into the empty hall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love the classic "kissing boys is different to kissing girls" trope, fight me IRL  
> ( ` ω ´ )
> 
> Just a reminder that you can see more of my shit in the following places:
> 
> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ladymermalaid)  
> [Tumblr (main)](http://www.ladymermalaid.tumblr.com)  
> [Tumblr (porny side blog)](http://www.empressmermalaid.tumblr.com)
> 
> Did you enjoy this fic? Chuck me a comment (even if it's just a single, solitary grunt) and you will fill me with such pride and vanity and appreciation I will have no choice but to write more and update more regularly to soak up more of that sweet, sweet recognition. It's that simple!


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